


A Shop

by MissBaudelaire (IWillBeTheEndofYou)



Series: Your Curves And Edges [9]
Category: MCU Actors, RPF - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, tom holland - Fandom
Genre: Chubby Reader, F/M, I hate the store, Ordinary Days, grocery carts, plus size reader, the author makes no apologies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-04 20:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18819880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWillBeTheEndofYou/pseuds/MissBaudelaire
Summary: There really is nothing in the fridge for supper.





	A Shop

**Author's Note:**

> Requested on Tumblr by captaingigglyguniea. Hope you like it! 
> 
> Find me at brokenheartagram.tumblr.com. Taking requests and giving love!

“I don't wanna go to the store!” she moaned as she tossed her book on the table. Tom just grinned and adjusted his ball cap. He looked at her, stretched out on the couch, one leg slung over the back. He took in the shape of her calf, the arch of her foot. Her leggings hugging the curves of her thighs. 

“Get your shoes on.” he said instead, tucking his wallet into his pocket. She groaned and rolled over, pillowing her head on her arms, peering up at him through the strands of her hair that obscured her face.

He liked her like this, he thought. Liked seeing the swelling of her ass, and wanted to go and spread her open, bury his face between those thighs. He wanted to feel the warmth of her skin in his palms, wanted to taste the flesh of her belly.

But the cupboards were bare. All that was left in the fridge was half a Brita and a container of ketchup packets. (“What are you doing?” he'd demanded the first day he saw her load up a bag with packets at McDonald's. She insisted that ketchup was ketchup, and this was free. And name brand, at that. Tom had insisted that he could spare the whole two dollars for whatever brand she wanted. She looked at him like he was a child who'd asked if the moon was made of cheese. She also took extra napkins for car tissues, even though a box of tissue was a whole dollar.) They'd have to eat. Even if they ordered in tonight, there was still breakfast and tomorrow's supper to worry about.

“You go,” she mumbled.

“Noooo,” he sang out, striding over to smack her ass. She squealed, jerking up. Her glare was playful, spiced with heat. She exhaled and got up, shuffling to the shoe rack. She rubbed her ass and mumbled something about mean boyfriends.

She sang along in the car as the headed to the grocery store, her arms above her head, bouncing in the seat. Tom could only turn up the radio and smile. He loved it when she was like this, he thought. He loved it when she was carefree and happy. These days were getting fewer and farther between, with his filming schedules. 

It nagged at the back of his mind. The emptiness when they weren't together. The ache inside his chest when he laid in hotel rooms and wanted her. The phone calls that had longer and longer pauses the longer that he was away. He didn't want to think too hard about what those silences could mean. 

Inside the store, he got a cart. He had a list in his pocket, but let her wander instead. She looked at the flowers, gently touching the petals, meandered towards the bakery. Tom glanced at the produce section, the list rubbing against him a nagging reminder. They could wrap this up quickly. They could hurry home. 

“Oooh, cupcakes!” she grinned, looking at a package of rainbow frosted treats. And Tom had to admit that they did look appealing, and the smell of the bakery was almost overpowering.   
“We need cupcakes.”

“Not on the list,” he felt his resolve breaking. The last thing either of them needed was junk. But the way the colors blended, and the way she was smiling. He sighed and gestured to the cart. She giggled, placing them in. Tom felt bubbles in his chest.

“Can I have a ride?” she clambered onto the cart in front of him, leaning against his chest. He adjusted his grip on the handle and started to steer them towards the produce. Didn't she know he could never deny her anything? Her weight against him was a comfort. 

The store was slow. Tom grinned and began to run. She shrieked, melting into laughs as he leapt onto the cart, steering down towards the end of the aisle. She leaned hard against him, one hand wrapping around the back of his neck. He inhaled, the smell of her and her strawberry lemonade lip gloss.

“Angel, wanna pick out grapes?” Tom headed for the cabbage. His girl walked towards them hesitated, and picked out a box of strawberries. She then grabbed a bag of grapes.  
“Okay, now we need carrots, mango, lemon, kale, salmon, almond milk---,” he trailed off. She raised an eyebrow. 

“You cookin', Holland?”

“We'll do it together.” he rolled his eyes and bagged up the kale. Before he could turn around, she was scooting the cart away, pushing it with one foot.   
“Little brat,” he groaned, jogging after her.

She came to an abrupt stop at the bags of popcorn. Her fingers brushed against the cellophane bags until she selected one. Neon orange, the kind that would stain your finger tips and teeth. She tossed it into the car and then grabbed a bag of chips.

“What are you doing?” Tom stopped the cart, both hands on the end.

“Getting groceries.”

“This is is all junk food.”

“Tom,” she went to wrap one arm around his waist and lay her head on his shoulder. He inhaled, the smell of her shampoo, the faint whiff of her perfume. His muscles relaxed, and his nuzzled against the top of her head.  
“What is the point in being an adult and having our own money and making our own food if we have to eat healthy all the time? Like, obviously we eat the produce section most nights. But I just can't tonight.”

“No?” he murmured, drawing her closer into his side. He gripped her hip, the warmth, the heft. 

“Just for tonight. Let's have fun.”

He could never deny her. So he followed along as she piled in candy bars, dip for the chips, pints of ice cream. He had a faint smile on his face as she piled their treasures on the conveyor belt and paid without a word. She almost skipped back to the car.

“So what are you making for supper then, angel?” he watched her put the paper sacks on the counter and grin at him.

“Any damn thing we want, Tom! Put peanut butter on an Oreo, dip chocolate chip cookies in ice cream, mix popcorn and chips. It doesn't matter. Just have fun.”  
Fun. Tom crept towards her as she began to put the frozen foods away. He snatched her hips and spun her around, letting her bang against the fridge with a giggle. Her head fell against one shoulder as he let his tongue run against her warm flesh.

“Okay then,” he breathed in her ear. “Let's have fun.”


End file.
